Fragmented
by Striped Candy
Summary: A collection of poems I've been writing since May about "Sherlock BBC". They're from both John's and Sherlock's POV's. So far, all are post-Reichenbach. They're set after Sherlock's "death", but before he tells John he's not really dead. If you squint and look through a microscope, I think you could find some Johnlock in here. My profuse apologies if this triggers some feels.
1. Fragmented

Fragmented

_(A/N: This is sort of based off the song "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday. I don't own that song, just this poem. I hope you like it.)_

Finally lost everything I need to go on living.

Losing myself, who I was, the best parts of me, and the sun's fading rays are taking away all the light left in my life.

Never thought I'd be left alone again, trying to breathe air that's not there.

Crawling through the bright kaleidoscope pain, getting slower every day, I don't know how to fill the hole inside anymore.

Gonna just let myself be overtaken by grief in a dark velvet cloak, not going to try and pretend I'm OK anymore.

How can you expect me to go on living like I used to when I lost my everything for good, when he was stolen away, taken by a thief, lost for eternity?

This is the beginning of the end.

I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't eat; can't do anything but live in the past, in my memory, where he is still alive, where he is still safe, within my grasp.

Can't understand why I'm so broken inside, why my heart is fracturing, why and how I became the shadow I am now, rejecting all the love given to me now.

How do you start again; survive a loss that cuts this deep?

Don't know how to move on, don't know if I can.

Is there strength enough left inside to pull myself out of the black shadow that has become my life, to escape the murky grays that accent it?

Drowning in isolation, grasping at hallucinations, can this really be how I'm living?

Look how this has stained everything about me.

Look at all the wasted years, wasted days, wasted seconds, wasted time we could have used to love each other.

There was so much time spent in vain pretending with each other.

Look at all the shattered ones taken away, all the shattered, broken, beautifully tragic images left lying on the ground, stowed away, forgotten about, lost in time.

Let me go and I will run, run away to keep insanity in check.

Take my hand and I will show you where, all the places he was most alive.

The sun will light the path hidden from me,, coated by grief and despair, anger and resentment; will show me where to walk so I can find my way back to him.

Help me find the place where love conquers, a place where this would never have to happen.


	2. Goodbye

Goodbye

_(A/N: So this poem is based off the song "Almost Lovers". I'm not sure who owns the song. I wrote this poem from Sherlock's point of view. It's set sometime in S2 after "A Scandal in Bohemia". It was based off a prompt where it was basically: Sherlock and John get together, have this torrent affair that's really passionate but brief. They tell no one of what transpires between them, ending the affair before the last episode and go back to being flatmates/friends, but never lose that in love feeling for each other. Or so Sherlock thinks, until he sees John falling in love with Mary while pretending to be dead. The prompt-prompt was to write about how I think Sherlock would feel about realizing his unrequited love and how he feels about John's relationship with Mary.))_

Goodbye my almost lover.

I'll miss the smokey pictures you

painted for me with words,

the starlight sewed into all your

movements.

Farewell, my secret affair.

I promise I won't watch the way you love her.

For you, for the memory of us, I'll fold

the way we felt together, the way you

made me feel, into origami pieces, let

them go adrift a haunting melody

carried by the wind.

So long, my beautiful flower.

Let's forget how we parted with mouthed

words, their imagined sounds carried to each other

on an almost windless day.

We don't need to remember how we

spent all that time trying to fill

an internal emptiness, how we

wasted so much time waiting for

illusions to become realities.

I wish you'd given me a final kiss, my

bright North Star.

We should have ignored the aching

hearts, ignored the pain, and held

each other close one last time.

Remember now: it's not your job to

catch me anymore, so let me slip

through your fingers.

Let me go, my little songbird.

We won't spend anymore time

together, not the way we used to

on holidays, once upon a December.

Let's not remember the touches we

never gave each other, wasted

instead on clutching small words

close to our chests.

Go now, my last sweetheart.

Don't forget the tangled sheets we

made, how they always smelled like us.

Touch my face one last time, before

we part, before I change everything

between us.

Start leaving now, my young butterfly.

Don't look back, don't wave goodbye; just

let the memory of us fade away into

smokey pastel memories we'll only

pull out when no one is looking, every few

years.

Help me forget our feelings by dressing

them in shadows, letting them go,

urging them to fade away.

But most of all, goodbye my almost lover.


End file.
